Elian walked back to the castle alone. His death timer was ticking again, but with a comfortable 119 hours in the bank, the urgency had shifted from "immediate cardiac arrest" to "existential dread."
[Current Hearts: 36 / 1000]
Thirty-six. It was a pathetic number. It was a "nice to meet you" number. It was definitely not a "let's defy the Emperor and marry the help" number.
'I flew too close to the sun,' Elian thought, rubbing his chest where the hickeys were hidden beneath the high collar. 'And the sun burned me. Then the sun got dressed and went to do paperwork.'
He reached the servants' corridor. It was buzzing. Maids were whispering in huddles.
"Did you hear? The contract arrived.""Princess Rowena. Finally.""They say the announcement will be at the Ball."
Elian gritted his teeth. He felt a phantom ache in his lower back—a reminder of exactly who Cassian should be announcing.
He rounded a corner and nearly tripped over a pile of shredded white lilies.
